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Nov 2016
“Give me the winner, this time! Last week you played me like a fool. I’m done ripping up these tickets, guy.”
The man behind the counter laughed, a big billowy kind that would bring forth rain clouds.
He printed out the next ticket and wished her good fortune. She walked away, bow-legged with a grin on her face. She knows it this time. She feels it, the adrenaline radiating through her weak body, worn down from all the pampering and dry-cleaning she had done for other people.
Other people. How she longed to be other people. The other people had a home, a simple life, songs from their time blasting through their speakers. I can’t keep up with this, she thought to herself. Her dreams were shattered forever and eternity ago. She was going to go places, boy, did she have it all figured out. Planned, organized, obsessing, obsessing, recycling herself like a ***** grocery bag to squeeze every last drop of glimmer she had left in herself.
This is the winner. She knew it would be. She’s aged oh so much more than she had anticipated, her skin dragging lower and lower, as if the devil himself was pulling her to hell, her destiny. There isn’t much time left for this one life, this only forgotten life.
She kept on walking, chin up and tears surfacing. As always, the clerk dutifully waiting until she could no longer see him, if she ever did at all.
“See you next week.”
Monique Matheson
Written by
Monique Matheson  30/F/Arizona
(30/F/Arizona)   
  1.7k
     ---, mikecccc, Elizabeth J and Hoping2bhelpfull
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